


Cut of the Cards

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, blood mention, bounty hunter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 16:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11062818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: As a bounty hunter, Konoha Akinori was more used to bringing in low-level felons skipping bail, or refusing to pay parking fines. But when he's hired to find a hacker who's siphoned off fifty million from his employers, he wonders if he's about to scoop the jackpot.Akaashi Keiji has eluded the police for two weeks, but Konoha has a lead to a bar called Ace's, and he won't rest until he's dragged the miscreant all the way to jail.





	Cut of the Cards

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for a bonus prompt for SASO 2017. I had a lot of fun with it :D
> 
> Thank you, Mandy, for finding the prompt for me. You're doing an amazing job.♥

The prompt for this story is [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10116114#cmt10116114)

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, Konoha Akinori thought it would have been better if he rolled up to his assignments sat astride a horse, wore a wide brimmed hat, and had a cheroot hanging out of his mouth. Or maybe if he didn’t shave and folded a blanket in half to drape over his shoulder, then he’d be taken seriously. Perhaps if he slung a holster packed with a six-shooter low on his hips, then people wouldn’t look at him with bemusement whenever he announced why he was currently making enquiries.

The man at the desk, belatedly rising to meet him, looked less bemused than amused, though, quipping, “Bounty Hunter? Where are your cowboy boots?”

Taking in the sober dark suit and diagonal striped tie at odds with hair that stuck out all ways and down across the man’s eyes, Konoha shrugged. “I could ask you where your thick glasses and stack of comic books are, isn’t that what you computer nerds are supposed to be into?”

“Touché,” the man inclined his head, and his lips twisted into wry smile. “Kuroo Tetsurou, head of the Mega Corp computer department. This about Akaashi Keiji?”

“Mmm, tell me what you know.”

Kuroo slipped around his desk, gesturing with his hand through a small set of desks, each one separated by a screen. “His desk’s there. Take a look if you want.”

“I wanted to know what you thought,” Konoha persisted, not put off in the slightest when Kuroo ignored him. “I believe your bosses have asked everyone to cooperate.”

“Sure. I didn’t know him well,” Kuroo replied, leading Konoha to the empty desk. “He turned up on time, worked through lunch and stayed late when he had to.”

“That’s all you know?” Konoha murmured, giving the guy a side-glance.

“Mm-hmm. He’d not been here long.”

“But you hired him?”

“I interviewed him, yeah, but being able to read a CV and then chatting to a guy for a temp job, doesn’t make us bosom buddies.”

“You didn’t ever have a drink after work with him?”

Kuroo shook his head. “No reason to.”

“And would anyone else here know him a bit better?”

“Not really.”

“You’re telling me Akaashi Keiji interacted with no one, not even his co-workers.”

Kuroo puffed out his cheeks, letting a breath slip out through his lips. “Don’t think so. He was kinda reserved, but then they all are here.”

“You do know what he’s done, Kuroo-san?”

“Heard a few things,” Kuroo replied. “And I was here when the police arrived.”

“And you didn’t manage to keep Akaashi here?”

“Hey, I didn’t know where he was. Cops turned up, just as he’d hightailed it out the door. He showed them a clean pair of heels, and was gone.”

“And no one here helped him?”

“Not as far as I know,” Kuroo replied. He yawned. “Like I said, he was a temp and didn’t speak to that many people.”

“Who sits there?” Konoha said, pointing to the desk that joined the absconder’s.

“Uh... that’s Kozume’s work station. He’s on a break. Might be a while.”

“I can wait,” Konoha replied. “Have some things to check here first.”

“Knock yourself out,” Kuroo said and turned away. “Meanwhile I need to get back to work. Help yourself to coffee, Bounty Hunter-san.”

 

Kozume Kenma, Akaashi’s colleague, turned out to be far more in keeping with Konoha’s idea of a computer geek. Small and thin, he wore his hair over his eyes, and seemed half-asleep as he huddled himself into an oversized hoodie. Konoha sat at Akaashi’s desk, rummaging through the drawers for a second time. It wasn’t that he thought he’d missed anything, but this activity meant he could study Kozume while pretending he’d not seen him. Thinking they were unobserved, people often tripped up.

Not this guy, though. Konoha glanced across the divide between them, to find a large slanting pair of amber eyes watching him, completely unperturbed.

“He cleared his drawers before he left.”

“Huh?”

“Akaashi-san took everything with him,” Kozume replied, and blinked slowly.

 “You were here?” Konoha asked, trying not to blink back as he held the man’s gaze.

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

Kozume glanced across to the water fountain by the window. “I was _there_. I could see him. He had a bag.”

_Great, he’s a literal guy. Just what I’d expect from a geek._

“What kind of bag?”

“Holdall. Black and white. Like a kitbag.”

“Kitbag? Did he like sport?”

Kozume shrugged.

_Yeah, how would he know?_

“What did the pair of you talk about?”

“Talk?” Kozume withdrew, dropping his head, so all Konoha could see were the undyed roots of his hair.

“You must have had conversations? Did he mention any friends or family?” Konoha licked his lips, and tried a smile, getting to his feet to lean across the cubicle. “Look, Kozume, I didn’t mention this to your boss, but if I bring Akaashi in, and you’ve helped, then I can cut you in for a percentage.”

Kozume went very still. His fingers, which had begun to type, froze on his keyboard, and Konoha wondered for a moment if he was going into catatonic shock.

He waited.

And waited.

He thought about calling over Kuroo, because his worker was immobile, but then he heard a slight rustle of paper, and through the hair’s breadth gap in the cubicle wall, a piece of paper inched towards him.

‘Bokuto Koutarou’

***

Everyone knew Bokuto. He ran _Ace’s Bar & Grill_ in the city, a bar that was loud and colourful, with poker nights, music and cheer pouring out of every brick. Alcohol and fun times flowed through its veins, and Bokuto was its heart, pumping out the vitality.

If you were going to do a bunk, staying with the most charismatic man this side of the sun, wasn’t the wisest course of events. From what he’d gleaned, Akaashi Keiji – currently on the run after a particularly clever piece of computer wizardry had transferred a cool fifty million from Mega Corp into an as yet untraceable bank account – was a tricksy kind of guy, and not someone who’d hole up with a man who drew the attention like moths to a flame.

It was likely Kozume was taking the piss, or maybe Akaashi had deliberately let Bokuto-san’s name slip in order to lay a false trail, but it would be dumb not to check it out.

Besides, he liked Ace’s, glorying in the energy it emanated, even if he did feel a fraud on the two occasions he’d been there.

Bokuto Koutarou was behind the bar when Konoha arrived. He was in the middle of mixing drinks, throwing the shaker high in the air, scooping ice, and twirling drinks bottles until the brightly coloured liquids swirled into wide glasses.

Late afternoon, and the crowds hadn’t appeared yet, but he received several whoops of applause from the barflies, even if the barmaid gave him an exasperated look when he sent a tray flying.

“Bokuto Koutarou?”

“Who’s askin’?” He put down the bottle of Aperol, and turned on his heel, a huge smile plastered across his face. “Hey, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

“I’ve been here once or twice,” Konoha replied, flattered despite his vow to keep things strictly professional.

“Return customer!  I like them!” Bokuto beamed and stuck out his hand, clasping Konoha’s and shaking it up and down.

It jarred at Konoha’s shoulder, and he flinched involuntarily, whipping his hand away. “That’s a strong grip you’ve got there, Bokuto-san,” he said.

“Did I hurt ya? Jeez, I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

“Minor sports injury,” Konoha lied. “I’m fine.”

“Hey, how ‘bout to make amends, you pull up a stool and tell me what ya think of this?” Bokuto said, and pushed a glass across the bar.

He obliged, hoisting himself onto one of the high bar stools, and waited until Bokuto had set the glass down on the playing card beer mat. He tried not to grimace at the concoction. Konoha preferred his drinks in bottles, beer bottles to be exact, and poked dubiously at the red liquid with the straw. “What is it?”

“I call it the Red Owl. New thing I’ve invented. I like owls, see, and there are a lot of different ones. The Snowy Owl’s kind of easy – White Crème de Cacao, vanilla schnapps and a load of ice – Horned Owl, I’m trying to get a hook into that, ‘cause grey ain’t an appealing colour for a drink.” He grinned again, no doubt breaking off because he realised he was talking too much, and waited, his large yellow eyes expectant.

Taking a sip, Konoha was surprised that the cocktail wasn’t sweet and sickly, but had a bitter taste to it, underlying the refreshingly cool effervescence. “Hey, that’s not bad.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“My name’s Konoha Akinori.” He took another sip, then licked his lips, meeting Bokuto’s stare with one of his own. “I’m looking for a man called Akaashi Keiji. I’ve heard you know him.”

“Akaashi?”  Bokuto pondered. “Yukie-kun?”

“Yup?” The barmaid looked up, finished mopping up Bokuto’s spillages and sashayed over.

“Akaashi Keiji? Do we know the guy?”

She tapped her chin with her forefinger, pursing her lips as she thought. “Ak–aa-shi Kei-ji,” she said, her voice faint as if she were trying to pin down a dream from the night before. “I don’t –”

“I was told you knew him,” Konoha insisted. Fishing inside his jacket, he pulled out the only photo he had, a slightly fuzzy headshot taken from CCTV outside Mega Corp’s office, two weeks ago, the day before he’d run, and laid it flat on the bar top. “It’s this guy.”

“That could be anyone,” she said, squinting. “From that angle he looks like Saru?”

“You think?” Bokuto snatched up the photo, pouring over it, then scrunched up his nose. “Nah, he ain’t smiling.”

“And he’s been abroad for five months.”

“Has it been that long?” Bokuto sighed, looking despondent. “I miss Monkey. Best barman we ever had.”

_I’m losing them again. This is either one helluva double act, or they’re both dumb._

 He rapped on the bar. “Kozume sent me here.”

“Ooooooh, _Kozume_ sent you. That makes _all_ the difference,” Yukie said, grinning broadly. She scooped up some peanuts, palming them into her mouth.

“So you _do_ know him?”

She chewed and swallowed. “Nope, never heard of him.”

If she was lying, she was good at it, her bored expression not flickering for a moment.

But she’d reckoned without the guileless Bokuto.

“Sure ya have, Yukie. He’s Kuroo’s friend.”

“Huh?”

“Kenma?”

“Oh, him, yeah, I know _him_ ,” she replied. “Geek with badly dyed hair. Never speaks, doesn’t like alcohol, and only eats apple pie. He’s not a regular, though.”

“But we _know_ him,” Bokuto continued. “And Kuroo’s a regular. Like Yakkun and Kai.”

“And that loudmouth Yamamoto,” she replied, rolling her eyes, but she was grinning too.

The conversation as getting him nowhere. Giving a loud cough, Konoha tried again. “Kozume said you might know where Akaashi is.”

“Did he?” Bokuto asked, looking around. “Why would he say that?”

“Who knows why Kenma says anything,” Yukie agreed. “He barely speaks.”

He’d had enough. Time to play hardball, even with a name like Bokuto. “Presumably he thinks you know Akaashi. Or he’s misleading me, which could land him and anyone else in trouble.” Flipping the leaf of his wallet, Konoha showed them his bounty hunter badge, which in the dim light of the bar could well be mistaken for - “I’m a cop. Tell me where he is, or I’ll arrest you for wasting police time.”

“You’ve only been here five minutes, and I gave you a drink,” Bokuto complained.

“And that could be seen as bribing a police officer!” Konoha slammed, his voice strident.

“Why don’t we all calm down?” Yuki said, cutting across them. She leant over the bar, smiling graciously. “Look, Officer, we do know this Akaashi guy. He’s been in a few times. He’s the quiet sort, always checking his phone.”

“Can you give me an address?” Konoha asked, barely daring to breathe because this was starting to be the easiest job he’d ever had. “There’s a percentage of the reward if you help me.”

Her mouth drooped. “Sadly not. He’s another that doesn’t talk much.”

“Hold on, it’s the twelfth, right?” Bokuto interjected.

“Yes,” Konoha replied, wondering what the date had to do with anything.

“Then he’ll be back tonight.”

“Huh? How d’you know?”

“He left a bag with me,” Bokuto said. “Asked if I’d store it for him.”

“A bag?”

“Yeah, a black and white kit bag. It’s out the back.” Bokuto creased his forehead, his thick brows meeting in the middle. “Hey, what’s he done? Why ya after him?”

“Misappropriation of funds,” Konoha said, squaring his shoulders as he used his most impressive voice. “Serious business, Bokuto-san, and you don’t want to be arrested for assisting a felon, do you?”

He held up his hands, eyes now wide. “Not me, sir. I’m law-abiding.”

“Then, I need your help. If Akaashi is coming back for his bag, I’ll need to hide out here and catch him in the act.”

“Sure thing,” Bokuto said, his voice hushed.

Beside him, Yukie nodded, clearly in thrall to the story. “Why don’t I take you round the back, Officer?”

“Oh, and take your drink,” Bokuto said warmly. “On the house, naturally.”

“Thank you.”

Bounty hunting was a dirty job at times. A lonely life always on the move to pick up miscreants with unpaid fines, or felons skipping bail. It was rare he was hired by a private client, but Mega Corp, unhappy with the direction the police were taking, had looked to him to bring Akaashi back. And with the money they were paying the difference between six month’s rent and homelessness, things were finally looking up.

He picked up the glass, taking another sip, and letting the warmth seep over him. Bokuto Koutarou really did mix a mean cocktail.

Life was sweet.

***

His head was hurting. Not a sharp pain, it was rather dull, and he wouldn’t have paid it much heed, except that it felt like a hangover, and he could have sworn he’d only had one drink.

Not even that, now he thought about it. Half a drink. That Red Owl thing of Bokuto’s. Konoha had sipped some more as he carried it through to the back room, ready to lay in wait for Akaashi. The room was small, with a filing cabinet and a mahogany table in the corner giving a nod to its intended use as a study, but there’d been an air of relaxation, too. It was a room made to unwind in, to shut away the noise and pressures of the bar. Konoha had wandered around flicked the TV on and off, and then settled on a rather old, but very comfortable, leather sofa, where he’d been about to check his phone ...

_I fell asleep._

_I’m still asleep._

_Why can’t I open my eyes?_

He reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose, hoping to clear the foggy ache in his head.

Or tried to. But instead of one hand, both rose, and whacked him in the face.

“OW!”

“Ah, you’re awake.”

The voice was calm, male, quiet but clear.

“Where am I?” Konoha asked, then cringed at the cliché.

“The same place you were when you fell asleep. No one’s moved you, Konoha-san.”

His lids were heavy, and he struggled to prise them apart, struggled to lift the thin skin shuttering his eyes, but by sheer force of will, Konoha at last opened his eyes, and found himself observed by a deadpan face.

And even though his vision was the bleary sort of someone who’d only just emerged from sleep, the man was unmistakable.

The photograph had not done Akaashi Keiji justice. Even in his confused state, Konoha wasn’t sure there was anything in the world that could capture the beauty of the face peering down at him.

_Holy crap! Why the fuck does the bad guy have to look like a god?_

Maybe a Da Vinci sculpture. Perhaps finely chiselled marble could copy the perfection of the cheekbones to life, but what was the point, when the reality was living and breathing.

Unless I’m not. If I’m dead, then this person could be an angel.

“You’re Akaashi Keiji.”

“Your memory’s intact. That’s good. And you’re Konoha Akinori.” He touched his chin. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to take you in.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Akaashi asked, his eyes trailing across Konoha’s body.

_Green, heavy lidded, framed with sooty lashes_ , Konoha thought, telling himself he was exercising his observational skills.

Shifting along the sofa, Konoha felt a lethargy in his limbs, but he managed to twist his legs until he was sitting and not lying down. And then he became aware that not only were his hands secured (which explained why he thumped himself) with a plastic tag, but his feet were bound together, too.

“There are people looking for you, you know,” he said, pleased the note of panic in his chest had stayed out of his voice.

“Yes, I expect there are.”

“And I told someone I was coming here, so when I don’t return Ace’s’ll be the first place they try.”

“Really?”

“So you might as well give up now,” Konoha bluffed. “You won’t get far.”

“The bar’s surrounded, is it?” Akaashi said, faintly mocking.

“They’re closing the net, Akaashi,” he warned, scowling with what he hoped was menace. “It’ll be better for you if you come quietly. I’ll even put in a good word for you.”

“And you’ll take me to the police will you?”

“Yes.”

“Immediately?”

“Well –”

 “Let me guess, your contract with Mega Corp states you have to inform them you’ve caught me before you take me into police custody.”

“They are my clients. It’s not unusual that they’d want to be at the station when I take you in.”

Pressing his fingertips to his lips, Akaashi looked as if he were actually considering the idea, or maybe he was waiting for divine intervention to tell him what to do.

Although for someone who was wanted by the police and Mega Corp for siphoning off millions, and was now looking his nemesis in the face, he looked remarkably chilled.

“How much money would it take for you to forget you’ve seen me?”

“Pardon?”

“A million? Two?” Akaashi offered, clicking his tongue. “Ten?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, Konoha-san. You’re a bounty hunter. You work for money, and if someone’s bought you, then surely that means you’re available to someone else who tops their offer.”

“Hey! No one’s bought me – just my services.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No! There is something called integrity, you know, and I don’t work for bad guys!” Konoha snarled, constantly aware that with his hands and feet bound, there was very little he could do about the indignity of the situation. “Release me! These things hurt.”

“If you struggle like that, the bonds tighten,” Akaashi replied. He got to his feet, sauntering across to a large globe, which when he lifted the lid housed a drinks cabinet.

_Ironic retro?_ Konoha thought. _Or does Bokuto actually like that stuff?_

“Would you care for a drink?” Akaashi asked, pouring himself a small brandy, and swirling it around in the glass. “I could no doubt find a straw as you can’t hold the glass.”

“As the last one was drugged, I’ll skip it thanks all the same,” Konoha muttered.

“Hmm, suit yourself. Only we might be here for a while, so it will help pass the time.”

“Get drunk together?” Konoha suggested. “Is this some kind of bonding exercise?”

_Why aren’t you running?_ he thought, his mind going into overdrive. _What are you waiting for?_

The sounds of the bar filtered through the air, loud but indistinct, music and chat – the normal sounds of happy patrons – normal sounds that would mask any attempt he had at calling for help.

But then who would come to his aid? Bokuto had led him here. Yukie had assisted and ...

No, it was earlier than that.

“Kozume,” he muttered.

“Pardon?”

“You’re in it with him, aren’t you?”

“In what?” Akaashi asked mildly, taking a nonchalant sip of his drink.

“The con. The hack. Whatever you want to glorify it as. The theft. You and Kozume, that’s why he told me about Bokuto.”

“Kozume Kenma?” Akaashi swirled the brandy glass. “He _told_ you to come here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why would he do that if he was in it with me? Surely the best option would be to let me get away and not send someone like you after me.”

He was right.

Damn!

Unless...

“He could be double crossing you. Fifty million split two ways isn’t as good as no split at all.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but Akaashi gave none apart from picking at his thumb with his index fingernail.

“What impeccable maths skills you have, Konoha-san,” he said at last.

“Or maybe you’re in this with Bokuto? Do you steal to order? Are you funding him?”

Akaashi gave the smallest of smiles, still swirling his drink.

“Is that how he’s managed to buy this bar and turn it into such a success?” Konoha licked his upper lip, watching as Akaashi continued to rotate the glass in his hand, the brandy slopping halfway up the sides.

But he didn’t speak, his eyes boring into Konoha’s, his face impassive.

“Arrived here, when? A year ago? Immediate hit. And yeah, I get that he has charisma, but does a loud mouth and a good line in mixology really translate into cash?

“Be interesting,” he continued, “to delve into his history. See what other projects he’s had.”

Lips twitching, Akaashi sat back in his chair, holding the brandy between his thumb and two fingers, curling his palm around the bulb of the glass. “Are you _asking_ me to silence you? Only you appear to be saying your thoughts out loud, and here was me thinking you were clever.”

_I’ve riled him. Good._

He smiled his special lazy smile, the one he used when he needed to charm information from a witness or accomplice. He had a good success rate, not just with women, but men falling for his quieter brand of charisma. “You saying you’re going to off me, Akaashi?”

“I could.” He raised the glass to his lips, eyes sparking green fire as they pierced Konoha’s.

“But you won’t.”

“You sound very sure,” Akaashi replied. “Cocksure, in fact. How do you know I won’t?”

“Because you’d have done it by now.”

“Perhaps I’m waiting for the bar to empty. Dead bodies are easier to move when there’s no one around.”

“Perhaps.” He carried on smiling, adding a wink.

Akaashi dropped his eyes first. “This brandy really is excellent. Are you sure you won’t join me?”

Shaking his head, Konoha shuffled around, trying to get comfortable. His left ass cheek was feeling numb now, and his toes were tingling. “Look,” he began, “You clearly don’t want me to come to any harm, but if you don’t do something about my ankle ties, the circulation’s going to get cut off and I’ll develop gangrene.”

“And _obviously_ you’ll give me your word that you won’t try to escape when I loosen them.”

“I doubt I’d get far,” Konoha said, trying to be reasonable. “Only one door.”

_And a window. It’s small, but the way that handle is sticking out, it’s not locked._

Akaashi shook his head.

Dammit.

Huffing out a sigh, Konoha tried his best to get comfortable. If he flexed one ankle, it decreased the tautness around the other, so maybe he could play at that for a while. Count to twenty, then switch ankles. Akaashi looked supremely unconcerned with his prisoner’s predicament, settling back into his unrattled demeanour.

_I almost had him earlier. Need to get back under his skin._

“Bokuto Koutarou...” he said.

“What about him?”

“Is he the brains or the brawn?”

“What makes you think one contradicts the other?”

Unflustered. Unflappable.

“And Yukie-san. The barmaid. Where does she fit into all this?”

His eye twitched.

_Okay, quick._ “Is she your lover, Akaashi? Look, if you come quietly, then I guarantee she’ll be left out of this.”

He snorted. “You really will have to do better than that. Now, shall we change the subject? We could talk about the game, if you’d like. Or the weather.”

“What game?”

Akaashi shrugged. “There’s always a game, isn’t there.” He yawned into his hand. “It’s been warm today. Do you think this good spell will hold for the weekend, or are we due a storm?”

“Is Bokuto your boyfriend?” Konoha asked, not letting up. “Is that why you’re so defensive, Akaashi-san?”

No reaction. Unless you counted the slight sucking in of a lower lip. Which Konoha did.

_Is that how it is? Wonder which one dragged the other one in?_

“Only, as he seems to be the one profiting, and you’re the one on the run, what exactly do you get out of this relationship?”

“Am I running?” Akaashi murmured, and took another sip, pressing his lips together as he savoured the brandy. “Tell me, Konoha-san, why do you come to _Ace’s_?”

“How do you know I have? Oh, Bokuto-san told you, I suppose.”

“No. I’ve seen you,” Akaashi replied. He crossed his legs and began to circle his ankle. Konoha wondered if he were mocking him.

“When?”

“Month or so ago. You ordered a beer and sat in the corner away from the window. I assumed someone would be joining you, but no one appeared. Did they stand you up?” He pursed his lips. “How very rude of them.”

“I was people watching,” Konoha replied blithely. He rotated his right ankle, feeling the band cut into the skin, but at least the left one was now gaining respite.

He remembered that evening. He’d been cold and tired, having dragged in a car thief, only to find the garage he’d stolen from had dropped the charges. With only half the bond money in his hand, Konoha should have gone back to his apartment to chase more leads, but the chill in the air had begun to seep into his bones, and there’d been a hunger for something more than food gnawing at his gut.

‘Ace’s Happy Hour!’ had shone bright in neon letters, pink and green, blue and yellow, illuminating his path and he’d stepped over the threshold before he’d realised, attracted not just by cheaper beer but the warm chatter of a happy crowd.

“You flicked through your phone, and had your back to the room most of the time,” Akaashi murmured and leant forwards, placing his glass on the coffee table. “I thought you’d leave after one drink as you clearly felt out of place.”

_Fuck you!_

“Maybe I was casing the joint,” replied Konoha, effecting what he hoped was an air of mystery, or something at least to wrong foot the enigmatic man in front of him.

“That too was a consideration,” Akaashi said. “But inquiries showed you to be what you said you were.”

“Inquiries?”

“Oh, yes, I have a file somewhere.”

“Why the fuck would you have a file on me? I’m a boringly background person, of no interest to anyone..”

“It’s quite thin, but it contains the essentials,” Akaashi replied, waving away Konoha’s words. “School and university reports, employment details.” He paused, pressing his lips together. “Hospital records.”

If that was supposed to discomfort him, Akaashi had made his first mistake. Not a huge blunder, but an error that would prove he perhaps wasn’t as smart as he purported to be.

“Big deal, you read a newspaper and recognised my face,” Konoha laughed. “That part of my life is an open book.”

“Have-a-go-hero, shot in the chest by a street thief. It was big news.”

“For three days, then the city caught up to a bank scandal, and my face was left to line cat litter trays,” Konoha said, effecting mildness.

_People forget. Newspapers only wanted their heroes perfect, not ones whose recovery made them long for dark rooms and solitude._

“You don’t sound bitter,” Akaashi murmured, more to himself than to Konoha.”Interesting...”

_And job offers fizzle out when it was clear he wasn’t a pet project on display._

“It’s the cut of the cards, Akaashi. We deal with that hand on our own.”

There was a lull in the music, a voice boomed, indistinct but causing vibration. Konoha wondered whether now was the time to yell, to scream and holler, because even if Bokuto and Yukie were in on the crime, someone might hear and that someone could call the cops for him.

And then a phone rang, or rather it mewed, and Akaashi got to his feet, scrambling for the mobile on the table, and turned his back in his haste to answer.

“Tetsurou?”

_Now!_

With a desperate lunge, Konoha launched himself across the room, not at Akaashi, but at the table, crashing into it with all the dexterity of a tightly bandaged mummy. Akaashi twisted back and leapt towards Konoha, stretching out with his hand to pluck him off the floor and back (presumably) to the sofa. But Konaha used the only weapon he had and rolled, making sure to catch his ankles under the leg of the table and set it tumbling.

The glass smashed. Brandy splattered the floor, and in that moment as Akaashi reached him, Konoha bent his knees up to his chest and lashed out, catching Akaashi in the stomach. He doubled over, staggering back into the wall, and seizing his chance, Konoha plucked the largest shard of glass between his teeth and began to saw at the plastic tie. He had no time, for not only was Akaashi taller and physically fit, he also had reinforcements in the shape of Bokuto, and no doubt Yukie who’d offer a hand if necessary. He pressed on with cutting the plastic, his lips coming into contact with the glass, the skin on his wrists taking punishment as a few jabs went wild.

“Stop that!” yelled Akaashi.

With a last stab, Konoha’s wrists unbound. He took the glass between his fingers, and started the desperate race to free his ankles. He had no idea what he’d do next, but hurling himself through the window was looking a good option, if only his ankles were free.

“Konoha-san, stop.”

He didn’t dare catch Akaashi’s eyes, would not give in to the distraction of the soft voice now trying to halt his escape. Seconds ticked away, each lasting a lifetime, and still he kept on, still he struggled to be free.

And Akaashi stayed ... still. He didn’t move, did not try at all to prevent this release, but instead held out his phone.

“Konoha-san. If you wish to call the police, then you can do so now.”

_It had to be a trick. Just as I accept the phone, he’ll twist my hand behind my back and I’ll be tied tighter._ He clutched the glass firmly, barely flinching although he could feel it pierce his palm, because none of this made sense. Akaashi was standing over him ... no ... now he’d crouched on the floor and was holding something else in his hand.

Scissors.

He was holding them the safe way, the way teachers taught kids in school, even with the rounded pink plastic pairs that could barely cut butter. He had the blades in his hand and was offering Konoha the handle.

“Kuroo tells me it’s over,” he said gently. “I need to tell Bokuto-san, but in the meanwhile, cut yourself free.”

“What’s over?”

“I’ll explain,” Akaashi said, and with his other hand, he reached for a TV remote control, pressing a button, “but perhaps this will help.”

The TV flared into life, a news programme, with tickertape bulletins rolling across the bottom of the screen. But Konoha didn’t need to be able to read them, for the location of the live broadcast was instantly recognisable, as was the guy being interviewed.

“So you had no idea your bosses were involved in this level of corruption,” the journalist asked.

The employer pushed his hair out his eyes, black and spiky, it didn’t stay put, flopping across his forehead as soon as he removed his hand. A caption appeared under his face:

**Kuroo Tetsurou: Office Manager.**

“Complete shock,” Kuroo said, his eyes widening in what _looked_ like innocence. “I’ve been here a year and didn’t suspect a thing.”

“We’ve been told it’s to do with money laundering, and bribes paid to top officials to secure contracts.”

“Really?”

“And Mega Corp is to be closed down with immediate effect. How will that impact you?”

“Guess I have to start looking for another job,” Kuroo replied plaintively. “Anything going at your TV station?”

Cutting swiftly back to the studio, the anchor began a more detailed description of the case, or as detailed as she could make it as the facts were sketchy at best.

“It was only two weeks ago that we were talking about a security breach at Mega Corp when they were hacked,” she said, directing her question at the business crime specialist.

“Indeed, Minako, we were,” he agreed. “But that was an apparent smokescreen, or rather, the police have hinted, a way of smoking out the criminals.”

“And how does that work?” Minako asked.

 “A hacker siphoned off large sums of money. We were told it was fifty million, although there’s a suspicion it was much more, and then they started to channel it through certain bank accounts. But the thing was, it was done all in one go, and thus very easy to trace. Normally in large scale corruption cases, the criminals do it in dribs and drabs, using several routes.” He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “The money always ends up in the same accounts, but by circuitous means. This time, though, because of the quantity of money, the route was traceable.”

“So the hacker was innocent?”

“The hacker was almost certainly working for the police, yes.”

 

Reality hit him with all the sobriety of an ice bucket over his head.

_I was working for the bad guys._ _Well, fuck me. Goodbye to my rent - hello park bench._

 And when Akaashi re-entered the room, Konoha was still sat on the floor, mulling over the events of the day, and his life course.

“So ... you’re a cop,” he said. And in a strange way this comforted him.

“No.”

“You’re a hacker who works for the cops, then?”

Akaashi smiled, and lowered himself to the floor. “Not me either. My computer skills are very definitely still at High School level.”

“Then ...” Konoha blinked, trying to puzzle out everything in his head. “Kozume? He was in on it after all?”

“Correct. We needed a fall guy once he’d taken the money, and he needed more time in the office to trace the route, so ... well ... I played my part.”

Taking the scissors from Konoha’s hands, Akaashi slid a blade under the last tie at his ankles and snipped. It peeled away, leaving only the sting where they’d cut into his skin as a reminder he’d ever been bound.

“Thank you,” mumbled Konoha. His mouth felt thick and tingly, and there was a coppery taste on his tongue.

“You’re bleeding,” Akaashi explained. “Sit back down on the sofa, and I’ll sort it out before you leave.”

“It’s nothing,” Konoha mumbled. “I have to get back.” He flexed his fingers, then winced, as a trail of blood began to not drip but stream down his arm. “Oh fuck.”

“Come here.” Akaashi grabbed his arm, raised it high in the air, before calling out, “Bokuto-san, could you fetch me a towel and some ice?”

“Sure thing,” came back the reply and a second later, Bokuto bounced into the room.  Not the least put off by the blood, he wound one of the small bar towels around Konoha’s palm, instructing Akaashi to press it tight, then grinned wolfishly at Konoha.

“How ya doin’ Bounty Hunter.”

“Not as good as I was when I walked in here,” he snapped.

“Ah, yeah, sorry ‘bout that. The old Red Owl works its magic real quick, but it don’t leave any after effects. You’ll be fine.”

“If you hadn’t told me that Akaashi was returning for his bag, then I wouldn’t have hung around.”

“Well, we couldn’t let that happen,” said Yukie, breezing in with the ice bucket. “See, we knew the Mega Corp boys had employed you, and we figured you as one of those diligent people who’d report back to them as soon as you had the slightest piece of information.”

“But you led me here!” Konoha protested.

A yell from the bar dragged Bokuto’s attention away, and Yukie, letting out an exaggerated sigh, followed. She closed the door, and the customers voices muffled again.

“Why did Kozume give me Bokuto’s name?” Konoha demanded.

“Curiosity,” Akaashi said. “It’s said to kill the cat, but in this case ... well ... we were all curious about you.”

“Me? Why?”

With another of his glimmering eye-smiles, Akaashi checked Bokuto’s makeshift bandage, then reached for another towel and wrapped it around some ice cubes. He pressed it to Konoha’s mouth. “That looks painful, but I don’t think it’s deep. You shouldn’t chew glass, Konoha-san.”

“I asked a question.”

“I recognised you last month,” Akaashi began. “And I ... well ... we wondered if you had potential.”

“Pardon.”

“We all knew your story. And it didn’t take someone of Kenma’s hacking skills to get the low down on you.”

Konaha clasped Akaashi’s wrist, pulling it down and away from his face. “But what do you mean by potential?

“To be one of us.”

“Uh ... what?”

“To join us at _Ace’s_. We’re one short since Sarukui left, and –”

“You mean become a barman? Uh ... look ... I drink beer, that’s the extent of my knowledge of alcohol.”

“It’s not a barman we’re after,” Akaashi assured him, and stared levelly into his eyes.

Konoha blinked first, and feeling colour heighten on his cheeks, he turned away. _Don’t get dragged in, however enticing._

“Saru was tenacious and had great vision. He played the long game exceptionally well, but took his chances when he could. Rather like you, I think. I turned my back for a mere second and you acted,” Akaashi continued, his voice soft like a faint caress. He handed the cold compress to Konoha, then took his other hand, unwrapping the towel to inspect. “I doubt you’ll need stitches, but I can drive you to the hospital if you’d like.”

“I’m fine,” Konoha said, and tested his cut lip with his tongue. That too had ceased bleeding, and only remnants of blood mixed with ice and saliva remained. “Tell me more about your organisation? You’re not the police.”

“No, we’re a private detective agency, only we deal with more corporate crimes. Running this bar is the perfect front because Bokuto and Yukie get to hear all sorts of things.”

“And why Aces?”

“Ah, Bokuto and Kuroo are old poker playing friends. Kuroo was an incorrigible card shark once upon a time,” Akaashi replied, sounding fond.

Very fond. _Is he with one of them?_   Konoha pondered, then wondered why his stomach curdled at the thought.

Akaashi continued to speak. “So there’s Bokuto, our leader and Ace in the pack.” He coughed with a touch of self-deprecation. “I’m the King, I took over from Saru when he moved away. Yukie is Queen, we keep our Ace in check when necessary because he has a tendency to veer from an eleven to a one in the blink of an eye. Kenma’s the Ten, under the radar with no flashy picture but just as valuable. And Kuroo –” Akaashi grimaced as the newsreel played again and Kuroo’s interview appeared on screen.

“Joker?” Konoha suggested.

“Very good of you not to say Knave,” Akaashi laughed. “He certainly likes a laugh, and is very provocative.  Useful in its way.” His voice lowered to a barely there wisp. “Bokuto-san and he are _very_ close. With each other ... I mean. I’m letting you know in case that’s a problem, or ... ah ... it clears up an assumption you made earlier.”

_He’s staring again. I can feel my eyelids burn under his green fire gaze._

“So where would I fit?” Konoha rasped. Although his wounded hand stung, he managed to curl his fingers, intertwining them with Akaashi’s.

Akaashi’s lids half closed, the long lashes fluttering to rest on his cheek. His lips parted, and for a moment, Konoha thought he felt a squeeze on his hand. But he must have imagined it, for Akaashi released him, and wound the towel back around his palm.

“What am I?” Konoha repeated softly. “Some kind of lowly club, or a dusty diamond in the rough, perhaps?”

Finishing his ministrations, Akaashi rocked back on his heels. He raised a trembling hand, then in a movement that could only be described as shakily unsmooth, he reached out and pushed a stray lock of Konoha’s hair behind his ear. His palm was warm after the ice, and Konoha let out a soft breath.

“For all I know, you’re a wild card from another deck, Konoha, but I have this feeling, deep in my gut, that you’re our missing Jack.”

 


End file.
